


Intimately Talking About All of Our Feelings

by sabswrites



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Comfort, Dialogue, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, dw it's not intense it's just two dorks talking at midnight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabswrites/pseuds/sabswrites
Summary: “I feel like everyone’s just pretending though, you know? Because I’m nice to them first, or because I seem lonely, or because they feel guilty about being horrible to me before I saved their lives from self-aware, hive-minded, technological implants, but not really because of me.”“I don’t know. Kind, elusive, life saver seems like a pretty accurate synopsis.”





	Intimately Talking About All of Our Feelings

Jeremy had heard the soft knocking for several seconds, yet he hesitated in turning his head. It was probably just him being weird, but perhaps it was a desire to seem coy, as if he wasn’t very clearly waiting around for someone. However, any attempt at appearing cool was lost upon his audience.

“I know you can hear me!” A voice called through the glass of his bedroom window, it’s owner perched awkwardly on the ledge of roofing extending below it. “Oh, pretend I originally intended that to be a pun on your name!”

Jeremy finally turned around and smiled as he raised open the window partition. “You know you could have just come to the door,” he said affectionately. 

“It’s more cinematic this way,” Michael replied, fumbling inside. He tossed in a small bag containing exactly: one toothbrush, one phone charger, three crumpled up receipts originating from a variety of both locations and purchase dates, five loose sticks of spearmint flavored chewing gum, two socks, a Barbra Streisand cassette tape, and one pair of pants identical to the ones he was already wearing.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and pulled him by the arm across the windowsill. “It’s more anxiety inducing this way.” 

Sighing melodramatically, Michael threw his head back, “Well excuse me for trying to add some adventure to the harrowing mundanity that is my life.”

“As if sneaking out at one a.m. to be with your secret boyfriend isn’t adventurous enough?”

Michael laughed as his feet landed firmly on the floor, and his eyes lit up, but it didn’t hide how they were still red rimmed and slightly puffy. His hair was disheveled in a way Jeremy knew meant he had been nervously pulling at it, and his complexion was a shade or two paler than normal.

Jeremy reached out to loosely hold his hand. “So do you wanna talk about it now or make out a bit first?” 

The other boy leaned in, pressing his lips to his friend’s cheek and sighed. “Honestly, I’m kind of too upset to do either right now.” 

“Hm. You wanna lay on the floor in the dark and listen to old reggae songs?” Jeremy tried. 

Michael wrapped his arms around his waist and squeezed for a lingering moment, “You know me so well.” 

Jeremy made his way around the bedroom, switching off lamps and drawing curtains, until the only remaining light was the yellow of the dimed street lanterns that peaked through the closed drapes and the blinking red dot on his radio. He placed a tape inside the latter and with a click the low sound of a clavinet extended throughout the room. He then placed himself flat on the carpet next to his houseguest and closed his eyes. 

For a few minutes, that was it. That was the entire world. A clichéd and lovely escape. Nothing existed beyond a ruminating melody and twin breath cycles. In and out and nothing else.

“This is probably super unhealthy and I feel guilty even thinking this,” Michael shifted his head against the other boy’s shoulder, “but I think you may be the only person who actually cares about me at all.”

Jeremy raised his hand up to sift Michael’s hair through his fingers, “Your parents care about you.”

“Conversations with _my parents_ are limited to three topics. One: my grades. Two: what I plan on doing with my unsatisfactory life. Three: when am I ever going to ‘bring a nice girl around?’ I’ll let you guess which is the only one I’ve ever been able to impress them with.” 

“You are a giant nerd,” Jeremy turned over to face him, “but you’re also sort of stupid sometimes because you don’t understand how wonderful you are.” 

Michael rolled his eyes. The room was almost completely devoid of light, and there was no way Jeremy could’ve seen this, yet he had assumed this reaction anyways, so he sighed and reaffirmed, “A lot of people care about you, Michael.”

“I feel like everyone’s just pretending though, you know? Because I’m nice to them first, or because I seem lonely, or because they feel guilty about being horrible to me before I saved their lives from self-aware, hive-minded, technological implants, but not really because of me.”

“I don’t know. Kind, elusive, life saver seems like a pretty accurate synopsis.” 

“Do you think I’m just being petty?”

“It’s not petty to want to feel like you matter and I totally get not believing it, but you do,” Jeremy said, confusing himself, “matter I mean,” he clarified. 

Michael sat up and shook his head, “I’m such a mess, and I wonder why my parents force me into therapy. I guess at least it’s a fourth thing to talk about.” 

It was silent again for a minute while Jeremy sat up too and considered this statement. 

“I didn’t know you were in therapy.” He felt sort of embarrassed saying this, because it felt like a thing he should know. He wondered if he could have known and been so terrible as to forget.

“Oh well, yeah… for a few years now.” It became clear Michael hadn’t quite meant to reveal this and wasn’t sure how to play it off. “I knew you’d probably think it’s lame or whatever.”

“Well, does it help?”

“Yeah?” he shrugged, “Sometimes. Even if I don’t always believe it’ll fix anything, it sort of feels better to pretend it will.” 

“Then of course I don’t think it’s lame. I just don’t get why you’d keep something like this a secret from me for so long.” 

“Are you kidding?” Michael lifted his head up in a snap, “I don’t want you looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” Jeremy asked in a softer voice. 

“Like that!” Michael shouted. He threw his arms out in frustration, then realizing how loud he had been, sighed and closed his eyes. “Like I’m some sick pet that you have to be wary of. Like you have to be careful around me because I’ll snap at any moment and take you down with me. I didn’t want to be your token depressed friend.”  
As the last song on the tape faded out, a breeze drifted through a crack left open in the window. There are some moments when the quiet between people makes sense. When it’s not filled with awkward tension, but pensivity and concern. When words should be selected carefully, not out of fear, but solidarity. 

“You know that’s not what you are to me.”

“Yeah,” Michael admitted, “I know.” 

“You know you’re my best friend and I’ll support you through anything?”

“Yeah.”

“You know I know that you tell everyone your favorite song is Bob Marley's _‘No Woman, No Cry,’_ when really it’s Gloria Gaynor’s _‘I Will Survive?_ ’”

“Hey!” Michael lightly smacked Jeremy’s arm, “That’s confidential information.” 

Jeremy laughed and considered for a moment how much he adored his best friend,  
and about how it was kind of the best thing in the world to be in love with him. “But really, man. It’s okay to not tell me things, but you don’t have to worry about me judging you if you decide to.” 

Michael let out a soft, breathy sound. “Honestly, I tell you most things.”

“Honestly, me too.” Jeremy replied. 

Michael reached again for his friend’s hand, and lay himself coolly back down. 

“Thanks for letting me run away here, Heere.” 

“You’re wel, Mell.” 

“Well?”

“You know, like welcome?”

“God, you’re a dork.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an idea of a very specific conversation that I realized would be perfect for these dorky kids. I hope you're filled with the same warmth and affection after reading that I was as I wrote this. 
> 
> \- sabs
> 
> (visit me @ spaceclub.tumblr.com !!)


End file.
